


equinox

by miirage



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, POV Second Person, Post-Recall, That's all I got, disgusting self indulgent fluff, thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:52:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miirage/pseuds/miirage
Summary: Things aren't perfect, but you're alive, and that's enough.





	equinox

He’s beautiful like this.

There’s always a rugged handsomeness to his face -- mussed beard and dark circles and fine, pink lines of scars. But the edge of softness he takes on in the sunlight is something to behold. The summer has tanned him nicely, and he’s got freckles smattering his nose despite the efforts you’ve made to get him to wear sunscreen.

It doesn’t matter. It never did. He’s got too much country in him that it’ll never leave; never bother him, either.

Honey brown streaks twist in his hair, disguising parts that are starting to go grey. He worries over those, you pretend not to notice. A silent pact that puts a rueful smile on his face when you turn the other cheek. You’re not young anymore, though you don’t necessarily see that as a bad thing. You wonder when he’ll start to agree.

Quiet sigh and he shifts on the grass, pats around to feel out his cigars. His hands are never as quick as yours. When he can’t find them he slits his eyes open, molten gold shining, and you still. He’s lovely.

“Don’t s’pose I could get those back from ya.”

He laughs when you shake your head, close-mouthed like a hum, drags himself up on his elbows after a moment of struggle. Gestures to get closer. You do, slowly. Your cheeks hurt, you don’t know when you began smiling but it’s hard to stop. His hand slides into your hair as easy as anything, cradling the back of your skull and your spine curves like a cat. It’s nice, to be close. To do this again.

“Gettin’ long,” he mumbles, and it’s nonsense but you nod anyway. Used to keep it long when you were younger. Before your father died, before you knew who you were. Brother threw a fit when you cut it, you recall, and grin. He’d throw a fit if he knew you were here instead of training, too. You repeat the thought out loud. Get a chuckle for your troubles. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

You put a hand on that beautiful, lovely, sun-kissed face. The fair skin gets shielded by your armor most days, looks stark and milky against warm brown. He smirks, fond, tilts his chin to press lips innocently against your thumb.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?”

The moment is so unique, you think. Even if a thousand other star-crossed lovers have sat in the same spot and murmured the same things and waited for the sunset together, it’s the first time you’ve done it. It’s the first time you’ve felt this way. Things aren't perfect, but you're alive, and that's enough. You want to kiss him as if to seal it, so you do. You want to say _I love you_  because it feels real.

So you do.


End file.
